The Dragon Scroll (21 page)

Akitada glanced at the girl and thought he caught a look of distress, but she smiled and asked, “Are you willing, sir?”

Amused and intrigued, Akitada rose. “It would be an honor.”

Taking up an oil lamp, Ayako led the way into the dark practice hall and lit the oil lamps attached to supporting beams. The hall sprang into an eerie, shadowy existence. The flames flickered in unseen drafts and familiar objects took on mysterious and threatening forms.

“Make your selection,” Ayako said, pointing to a rack of staves.

Feeling a little foolish, Akitada removed his outer robe and fastened his full trousers around his knees. Then he found a weapon that felt comfortable and turned around.

Ayako had taken off her robe and wore only a pair of trousers. As he stared, she bent to tighten the strings around her knees. He had seen peasant women in the fields work bare-breasted, but that this beautiful young woman should do so in front of him shocked and flustered him.

“Do you teach your lessons like that?” The words were out before Akitada could stop himself.

She straightened up slowly and looked at him. Her body was magnificent. She was as slim and muscular as an active boy, with a boy’s long torso, but high, softly rounded breasts, a flat stomach, and hips tapering to slender, firm thighs. The full fabric of the trousers partially hid the shape of her lower body, but her movements left little to Akitada’s imagination and he swallowed.

“No,” she said coldly and turned away to reach up for a sleeveless shirt hanging on a nail. “Men dislike fighting a woman. I wear a shirt and trousers, like one of the porters on the street, and they pretend I’m a boy. Would you prefer not to engage in a bout with a female?”

“Not at all. I’m ready.” Akitada hoped the uncertain light hid his flushed face.

If he had thought to prove his masculine superiority by humoring this girl fighter, he was sadly disappointed. Perhaps he had angered her, because Ayako attacked with a speed and ferocity that saw him disarmed in a minute. Wordlessly, she bent and tossed him his stave, and they began again. This time Akitada was more careful, but he lost his weapon once more. Again she threw it to him, saying, “Your technique is good, but you have been taught to attack. When you are forced to receive an attack, you have no notion how to defend yourself. This time I’ll let you force me back. Watch how I counter your strikes.”

Akitada bit his lip and did his best. To his surprise, even his hardest hits and quickest lunges were parried. He was about to give up before he disgraced himself completely when Ayako disarmed him for the third time.

He stood staring at his stave on the floor between them and shook his head. “You are a superb fighter,” he said in awe.

“Thank you.”

Her words sounded muffled, and he looked up. She had her back to him and was hanging the shirt back on its hook. Her long, slender back glistened with a sheen of perspiration that moved in patterns of light and darkness across the flexing muscles. This time she did not turn around until she had put on her long robe and tied her sash. When she faced him in the flickering lights, he thought he saw tears in her eyes.

“I expect you want to make a clandestine visit to the temple,” she said, avoiding his eyes. “We could go tonight if you like.”

“Yes.” He agreed almost without volition. Putting on his robe, he wondered how this strange girl could have disturbed him so powerfully and why he wished to prolong their time together even at the cost of a night’s sleep.

They rejoined the others. Otomi had returned, looking pale but much calmer, and was gathering up her paintings.

Akitada said to Higekuro, “Would you ask your daughter if I might purchase two of the scrolls? The dragon scroll and the mountain landscape?”

Higekuro spoke to Otomi, who nodded and brought the pictures to him. “They are a gift,” her father said, extending them to Akitada.

“No.” Akitada was firm. “I will pay the top price she has been getting.” He looked at Ayako.

“Two bars of silver apiece,” she said, tossing her head.

Higekuro drew in his breath. “Ridiculous! You know very well that was the price of a commissioned
mandala
with three hundred figures of saints.”

“Four bars of silver it is,” said Akitada recklessly, remembering Motosuke’s gold. “The price is reasonable for good work. I will pay your daughter tomorrow.” Turning to Tora, he said, “Miss Ayako has offered to take us into the monastery tonight. It means postponing the search for your friend until tomorrow.”

“What’s so hard about getting into a temple?” Tora asked with a disdainful look at Ayako.

“This temple is not like others, Tora, and Miss Ayako has been there before. You and I have not.”

“You will need to change clothes,” Ayako said to Akitada.

“Then we’ll stop at the tribunal.”

“We don’t need Tora.”

Tora’s face stiffened. “I’m going!” he snapped.

Akitada hesitated, then told Ayako, “There may be trouble. Tora will be useful.”

Ayako whirled to face him, her eyes fierce. “I can handle any man,” she said. “What else do you want me to do to prove it to you?”

Akitada stepped back. “I did not mean ... It was not meant as an insult. But there are so many monks there that even Tora and I...” Seeing the flash of anger at his use of the word
even,
he said quickly, “If we are discovered, three have a better chance of escaping. Two of us can hold off the enemy while one runs for help.”

“If you’re careful and don’t do anything stupid, we won’t be discovered.” She turned away and ran up to the loft with the smooth, long strides of a large cat.

Akitada told Higekuro, “Thank you for making me as welcome as Tora. I hope he has behaved himself.”

Higekuro glanced at Tora and Otomi, who were taking their time putting away the game pieces and managing to touch hands as much as possible. He smiled. “Tora’s like the son I never had,” he said. “I don’t want Otomi to get hurt, but I won’t deny my daughters some joy while they are young.” He met Akitada’s eyes and added with great seriousness, “Remember this: my daughters and I are outside the world you live in; we have made our own rules.”

Akitada had no idea how to respond to this puzzling advice, so he thanked his host for the wine and entertainment and gathered up his scrolls.

When Ayako returned, she wore long black trousers and a long-sleeved black shirt. Her hair was bound up in a black scarf. “Do you have any dark clothes?” she asked, frowning at Akitada’s white silk trousers and pale gray robe.

“Yes. Though nothing nearly as becoming as your costume,” he said with a warm smile.

She looked startled and turned away abruptly. “Let’s go then.”

* * * *

TEN

THE TEMPLE OF

FOURFOLD WISDOM

kitada, in his dark brown hunting clothes, joined Tora in the stable yard. Tora had brought horses from the governor’s stables and wore a quilted cotton coat that was so stained and faded it was hard to tell if it was green or black. A pair of badly patched blue trousers were tucked into his boots.

Akitada stared at him. “Is there some naked beggar outside the gate?”

“What’s wrong with my clothes?” Tora asked. “They’re dark. Had to give that greedy bastard of a stable boy ten coppers and my blue robe for them.”

The stable boy, who had saddled the three horses and was standing about yawning, decided to disappear.

“You gave him your new blue robe? I paid three strings of coppers for your clothes,” protested Akitada.

Tora snorted. “You were cheated. They didn’t keep me as warm as this.” He patted his quilted coat affectionately, then took the bridles of two horses and headed out the door, leaving Akitada to follow behind with the third.

Ayako regarded her horse with intense dislike.

“Come on,” mocked Tora. “Get up! He won’t bite.”

She gave him a furious look and scrambled up awkwardly. Taking the reins, she gingerly directed the docile beast onto the road. “Follow me,” she said over her shoulder. “We can’t use the Great Northern Gate. The guards ask questions.”

They passed quickly through dark deserted streets north of the tribunal and turned down a short alley that ended at the palisade enclosing the city. Someone had broken the boards there, making an opening wide enough for a horse and rider to pass through. A well-trodden path led down into the wide ditch and up the other side. Clearly they were not the only ones who avoided official scrutiny at the Great Northern Gate.

Once in the countryside, they traveled quickly along narrow farm roads. Mulberry groves, leafless at this time of year, raised screens of fine black branches against the starry sky. The moon, nearly full, moved with them in ghostly fashion behind the lacy boughs.

It was cold, and the horses’ breath hung white in the air when they snorted. They were riding single file, with Ayako leading the way and Tora bringing up the rear. Akitada’s eyes were on the slender, straight back of the young woman in front of him. He wondered if she was cold in her thin black cotton shirt and trousers. Belatedly it occurred to him that, being unfamiliar with horses, she had expected to ride in front of one of them.

Bringing his horse up beside hers as soon as the road widened a little, he asked, “Are you cold?”

“No,” she said curtly. “I don’t like horses, that’s all.”

“I’m sorry I did not ask before. Would you like to ride with me?”

For a moment she hesitated, then she stiffened her shoulders and shook her head.

“Why did you offer to come? You could have drawn us a map.”

“I wanted to come.” After a moment she grudgingly added, “Besides, you need me. I know how to get in. When my sister was attacked, I got suspicious of the monks and paid a visit to the temple.”

“And?”

“In the daytime they watch all visitors. I decided to come back after dark. The first time they almost caught me. Last time I found ... well, something strange.”

“What?”

“Wait till you see.” She kicked her horse into a faster trot, and Akitada fell behind.

The mulberry groves thinned, and an icy wind began to catch at their clothes. The narrow road joined a much wider highway leading into the mountains. Akitada looked back over his shoulder. Behind him stretched the plain toward the distant bay—a thin silver line marking the separation of the night sky from the land. Between them and the sea lay the city, an amorphous mass of snow-covered roofs, pine groves, and pagodas.

Tora sat huddled into his quilted coat, staring ahead. “Looks dark in those woods,” he muttered.